“Named demons… they’re insane strong, right?”
“Extremely. A skilled team could win, but not without losses.”
“Scary.”
I spin the loaded cylinder.
“Hey, when you command me, you hold back, right?”
“Yeah. I hold back.”
“What if you didn’t?”
She closes the manga.
“Easy.”
Her flawless face turns to me, gaze steady.
“Asmodeus? Crushed. No need for humility. As my vanguard, unleash everything.”
“I see.”
I snap the cylinder back, ready to fire.
“Honestly, it doesn’t feel real. Holy Grails, demons—too big for me. I know hell on earth would be bad, but… deep down, I figure someone else’ll handle it. Like always.”
Then I remember—
Hana-chan, who noticed the things I never said.
Her smile, meant to spare me the effort.
So I say:
“But y’know… I love movies where guys in suits smoke like chimneys and shoot demons.”
“This movie rocks.”
No further words needed. We believe in actions, not speeches.
Her Majesty rises.
“In the name of Her Majesty,, Slay the demon.”
I kneel.
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
A moonless night. We stand before the luxury hotel in Roppongi
This hotel is run by a demon, and Kenji, the demon Asmodeus, is there.
Through the glass, the lobby sprawls:
marble floors, a crystal chandelier, crimson carpets, a grand staircase.
Well-dressed men and women mingle, laughing with glasses in hand.
“They’re sure having fun.”
“They think this world’s already theirs.”
“No clue two gangsters are about to ruin their party.”
“Exactly.”
We’re dressed in black suits, white shirts, and thin black ties, candy dangling from our lips.
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“Let’s wrap this up.”
“Let’s~”
The doorman mistakes us for guests, swinging the doors wide.
We stroll to the chandelier, where a waiter offers champagne.
Her Majesty downs it, smashes the glass—and shoots him between the eyes.
“Party’s over.”
Striking a pose under the chandelier.
“From here on out, screams are the music.”
“Damn, Your Majesty—total villain vibes!”
“Tonight, I’m a stylish villain.”
Gunfire erupts. The guests pull weapons—their eyes pitch black.
A woman in red charges, screaming.
Her Majesty blows her skull open.
Like a signal, demons swarm.
She guns them down in rhythm—kicks, spins, reloads mid-motion.
“I was in the Wild West, you know.”
“For real~?”
While doing this, from the second floor promenade, two well-built men dressed in black who look like Secret Service agents come running down the grand staircase. They’re holding large-caliber handguns.
My body runs up the grand staircase, shoots at their shoe tips, and as they stumble, puts one bullet each between their eyebrows and in their left chests.
“Damn, I’m way too good at killing… scary~”
No time to admire myself, though. I head straight up to the second-floor promenade and start dropping demons—bullets right through their foreheads, necks, chests, stomachs, all along their centerlines.
Once most are down, I glance at the lobby—Her Majesty’s surrounded.
“Whoa—! Like the 47 Ronin!!”
To protect her, I kick off the railing and leap onto the chandelier right above Her Majesty’s head. Hooking my legs in, I hang upside down from the ceiling and pick off the enemies behind her. Then I drop to her side.
“Madarame!”
“Your Majesty!”
Back-to-back, we gun down the swarming gentlemen-and-ladies demon crowd.
By the time I notice, we’re the only ones left standing.
“Your Majesty,”
I say, eyeing the mountain of demon bodies in the lobby.
“You’re way into this, huh~?”
“I’m the type of your Majesty who rides the vibe,”
she replies, face unreadable as always—dead serious or joking, who knows?
Then—
Her Majesty suddenly points her gun at me.
“Huh? D-did I get too carried away…?”
Gunshot. But I’m fine.
Behind me, glass shatters as the chandelier crashes down. Under it, a demon lies sprawled—gun aimed where I’d been.
“Th-thanks…”
“We’ve got ten minutes left,”
Her Majesty says, pulling a pocket watch from her chest pocket and draping it around my neck.
The hands read 11:50 PM.
“Till midnight.”
“Wait—Your Majesty’s power is Cinderella?!”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
She narrows her eyes at my stomach.
My white shirt’s soaked with blood. A stapled wound, bleeding way too much—now that she mentions it, my vision’s swimming.
“So I’ve got ten minutes before I drop, huh.”
“Correct.”
I’m only strong when Her Majesty’s power flows into me through orders. That connection probably lets her gauge my condition perfectly.
“Rabbi said four named demons are gathering to protect the Holy Grail.”
“Ah. So this watch is my time limit.”
Eh, I’ll manage, I say.
“If heroes get three minutes, ten’s just right for a classy gangster, yeah?”
“I don’t measure time. I always have plenty.”
“Your ‘immortal queen’ bit is so hard to riff on~”
We reach the top-floor hall.
Pushing open the heavy doors, we find a cocktail party in full swing. Demons mingle, laughing. At the far end, Kenji stands onstage, mic in hand.
“Kenji—!!”
“Madarame!”
He grins at me.
“You look terrible. Can almost see through that gut of yours.”
“Goddammit—! How do you always hit my weak spots while sounding smart, then act all superior? That’s some next-level art right there~!”
No way I’d win a war of words, so I decide to punch him first and stride toward the stage—
Gunfire erupts.
The partygoers draw weapons of all sizes and open fire. I hit the floor, shooting at every leg I see under tables. Drop the ones who fall, headshot the crouchers—clear a path.
Her Majesty, meanwhile, pours herself wine, sips, and nods. “Mhm.” Then a bullet shatters her glass. She scowls.
Demons flip tables for cover and keep shooting.
“Hey, Madarame,”
Her Majesty says, tapping the watch around my chest.
“Time’s short. Five minutes left, max.”
“Wait—You were drinking wine! You don’t get to say that!!”
Still, we charge—plowing straight into their barricade, guns blazing.
My ammo runs out first.
I crouch; Her Majesty vaults over me, firing till her gun clicks empty. Then I take point again.
Reload. Advance. Repeat.
But—
“Your Majesty,”
I ask mid-reload.
“Why revolvers?”
They’re outdated. Modern autoloaders have better firepower and capacity.
So why these clunky things?
Her Majesty keeps firing, dead certain.
“Automatics aren’t elegant.”
“So inconvenient, though!”
By the time we reach the stage, my vision’s spinning.
My shirt’s crimson from the waist down. Adrenaline’s keeping me up, but normally, I’d be long gone.
“Three minutes left,”
Her Majesty says.
“Hero time, then.”
I march toward Kenji—but he’s still hands-in-pockets, smug despite his lackeys being dead.
“Madarame,” he says. “Kill that woman.”
“Huh?”*
No way I’d hurt Her Majesty—yet my body moves, gun aimed at her. Simple reason:
“Forgotten? You feared me. That means you’re mine.”
Kenji smirks at Her Majesty.
“You’ve been using Madarame too, but my power wins. Obviously. You left his free will intact. I dominate completely. When I rule humanity, I’ll break their spirits first—no resistance possible.”
My gun wavers—but stays trained on Her Majesty.
Silence.
“Do it, Madarame,”
Kenji whispers in my ear.
“Half-baked trash like you? You only function when someone tells you what to do.”
My hand shakes. Finger on the trigger—
Bang.
“Hahaha! Pathetic. You actually shot your own—… huh?”
Kenji looks down.
“Huh? Why? “
His shirt’s red—just like mine.
I shot him.
“The hell?! How’d you move?!”
Rage and pain twist his face.
“Easy. I’m not scared of you.”
I smirk.
“At first, I believed you. Thought maybe I ran from school ‘cause I feared people, society. But nah—I don’t even hate school that much.”
The truth?
“What really scared me… was that nobody would ever get what I believe in.”
Protecting the girl who loved Kuromari-chan, feeding strays before class, standing up for weak classmates—got me labeled a troublemaker.
Maybe things would have been different if I had explained the reason.
But loudly announcing such things myself would have been different.
“Those kinds of things just aren’t elegant”
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